


Lullaby

by zeroism



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Future Fic, Introspection, Longing, many assumptions made about the ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 15:00:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15121940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeroism/pseuds/zeroism
Summary: And still he played, and still he offered himself piece by piece to an empty shrine built with sweat and tears.(spoilers for Together in Song)





	Lullaby

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't the kind of thing I usually write, but I started typing away the second I finished the event... jeez Cygames give my soul a little break

Every once in a while, the captain would stop by Perfetto Island. He'd been told, _no reason not to since we're close by anyway_ , and Elta agreed completely. Sometimes "close by" was over ten islands away instead of one or two, but Elta couldn't criticize the crew, really. He's always dying to visit.

Checking on the townspeople was always fun. Ever since the disaster, they were slowly but surely growing back into themselves, training fearful hands to create and love art they'd come to hate, and with every visit, there was a new splash of color, a new melody in the air, new steps and moves to learn. It felt like coming to a second home, watching it grow, rebuilt more than just physically. Selfira's quiet, gentle look as she watched all the local performance told him she felt the same way. One of the townspeople showed him their latest work in progress, and though he'd never truly criticize any piece that comes from the heart, he'd used his still small knowledge of sheet music to assist in finishing the piece, and Selfira seemed to approve of the final product, playing it herself just to try it out.

It was always small things like that, interactions with the townsfolk, with their creations, that made Elta feel a little more at home with each passing day. Every time they visited, the town was inundated with joy and harmony, and knowing he had a hand in bringing such peace fills Elta's heart with pride, a beautiful song of confidence he never imagined he'd be able to feel before he met the crew.

Despite all that, visiting Caro's shrine felt like visiting a grave.

The townspeople would often bring in offerings — it was almost more of a museum than a shrine. New pieces displayed every time, in appreciation for the primal beast that blessed them with such bountiful creativity. With equal parts serenity and sobriety, Elta, Selfira and the captain would bring out their instruments and play that same lullaby Caro so loved to hear back then; their melancholic offering to the primal beast Arte. Lyria would say his slumbering presence in her core became warmer and gentle when they played, and that knowledge moved Elta forward. Even if Caro wasn't here, he could still hear them, he could still love their art just as he once did. That was enough.

When he finally learned how to write sheet music, he'd write down all of his scrapped melodies, all of his tests and successes and failures, and bring them to Caro's shrine. A personal gift, something Caro could add to his collection back in his atelier — not that he'd need to hide in the forest when he awoke. Maybe Caro could live right there in the shrine, surrounded by the appreciation of his island's residents; or even in a regular house, on a regular street, a real breathing person who could continue to learn and grow and work with the people he always loved and cared for. Selfira smiled at that — yes, he'd most certainly enjoy living amongst his people. No longer an outsider in his own land, free to be himself and share his life with them. That was very like him, he mused, and Lyria smiled brightly, voicing that same thought.

In truth, they'd only known Caro for a few days, but Elta liked to think they understood him like that.

Some days, the worst ones, Elta would sit alone in the shrine for hours, playing his lullaby as if his life depended on it. Niyon would mutter something about Elta's melody sounding lonely. He'd brush it off, returning to his instrument, to his sheet music, to his offerings, in the feeble hope that the next note would be the one to awaken Caro from his long, deep slumber. To think he'd once used that same instrument to put another primal beast into such a state — sometimes he wondered if playing for Caro would only make him sleep longer. And still he played, and still he offered himself piece by piece to an empty shrine built with sweat and tears. Those days, he could feel a wetness seep into his shirt where Selfira had buried her head as they embraced, and he didn't know if she was crying for Caro, or for him.

But the bad days were always interspaced with wonderful ones, where he and Selfira and the townspeople would play together, and Lunalu would share her seasoned professional techniques with budding storybook artists, and the visiting captain would offer a steady drum beat for the festivals centered around the now not-so-new statue of Caro. He hoped Caro could tell how appreciated he was, and that someday, he could be there himself, enjoying life as he never could before. Those days, he'd smile up at the statue, and hold Selfira's hand as she told him Caro would be proud of them, and the townspeople, and of how much joy his island contained. Her silver hair fluttered in the breeze as she steps away from the statue, and Elta joins her, watching a pair of young boys performing a new dance in offer to Arte. At the end of the day, which tended to be fairly late on those festivities, he would retire with Selfira to their home, now a house on the outskirts of town, today much fuller than usual; their son had decided to spend a few days home because of the festival, and Elta enjoyed his time with his family to the fullest. So he and Selfira put the kids to bed, telling stories of primal beasts and friends he would never forget. Elta just knew that, when Caro awoke, he would be great friends with his granddaughter.


End file.
